


a little bit softer now

by beastlyboop



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Age Difference, F/M, No Condoms Allowed, Oral Sex, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, charming old man, gender-neutral dfab reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-20 20:24:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11342586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beastlyboop/pseuds/beastlyboop
Summary: Working at the Mystery Shack is kind of like being one part of a two man con, with a little less panache. He reels them in, herds them into the gift shop, and you take their money. He never wastes any time on anyone who won’t buy anything. Sure enough, at the end of every tour no one leaves without something they don’t need. Working around this stuff every day, you find that you have little real interest in any of it. Even the funny little bobble heads of your boss. Although, there is a Mystery Shack key chain hanging off your bag. One of the perks of working there - you get a 2% discount. Without any kind of health or dental insurance to speak of, at least it’s something.





	a little bit softer now

**Author's Note:**

> [on tumblr](https://beastlybutts.tumblr.com/post/128007871630/a-little-bit-softer-now-grunkle-stan-x-reader)

Working at the Mystery Shack is kind of like being one part of a two man con, with a little less panache. He reels them in, herds them into the gift shop, and you take their money. He never wastes any time on anyone who won't buy anything. Sure enough, at the end of every tour no one leaves without something they don't need. Working around this stuff every day, you find that you have little real interest in any of it. Even the funny little bobble heads of your boss. Although, there is a Mystery Shack key chain hanging off your bag. One of the perks of working there - you get a 2% discount. Without any kind of health or dental insurance to speak of, at least it's something.

You've been working at the Mystery Shack for four months now, and in that time the summer rush had ended. Fortunately for you, the locals keep coming when they can. You're sure the area is a sight to see during the right time of the year. You haven't been in Gravity Falls for long, and you see getting a job the day after you arrived as a great achievement. Not that it was that hard to get, but still. 

Every morning you take another chance and drive to work in a car that was once your grandma's, or your great grandma's... You hadn't even been born the last time it was in style to drive it. But the early morning ride through the forest is kind of peaceful...even if you do feel like you're being watched.. 

You come in early the days when you have too much time, which is most of the time. Sometimes you sweep up or help Soos to set up new displays or restock. It's not part of your job description but you're unsure of what actually is, other than manning the register. The only thing Mr. Pines told you when you got the job was, "Don't steal anything and don't fall asleep in front of the customers. Makes me look bad!" 

Around midday, another tour ends and he leads the group into the gift shop. You don't have to pay attention until somebody wants to buy something. At the moment you're flipping through the pages of a magazine you found under the register, an old issue of _Look At This Boat_ monthly. The counter creaks slightly as someone leans against it, and you look up from your reading to see none other than the Mystery Man himself.

As he sits back against the counter you can't help but stare. The back of the old man isn't the worst view in the world. He looks pretty good for someone his age, even if you don't know exactly what that age is. You mean, not good, good. Just good. He looks okay. 

There's a stray hair on his arm, which you reach out to pluck from his suit. 

"Hey, you got a hair - I got it," you smile, and he turns a bit to watch you over his shoulder. 

"Thanks sugar- Hey! Try it on, you buy it! No, I don't wanna trade you for your shirt.." He jogs away to deal with a half-dressed customer and you watch him go, flicking the stray hair onto the floor.

Sugar?

x

Work keeps you later than usual today. Mr. Pines just revealed a new exhibit - Gravity Fall's' very own stuffed snake moose, or snoose. The last tour group made a bit of a mess when one of their kids tried to ride it. You feel an obligation to stay and help tidy up. It was your idea, anyway. This late in the day, the Shack is usually pretty quiet. You can always expect the sound of the television droning in the other room, comforting in its normality. 

The wind seems to have picked up, and there are several wind chimes outside currently banging against the side of the building- chaotic, but kinda pretty. As you finish sweeping you can hear the rumbling of thunder nearby, and you wander over to the open window to stare out into the dark. Rain splatters onto your face and your hair blows back as the wind shifts suddenly. For a moment the forest is lit up by a fork of lightning that seems a little close. You shut the window, wiping your face with a frown. 

"Mr. Pines, I'm going! Have a good night!" You call back into the house as you grab your jacket from the hook beside the door, shrugging it on and grabbing your purse. 

"Night, kid." You turn with your hand on the doorknob, seeing Mr. Pines standing in the doorway that leads into his living room. He lifts a hand and waves, smiling, and you do the same.

You're almost blown back when you open the door, careful when you let it go so it won't slam into the wall, and pull it shut securely behind you. Standing for a moment on the empty porch, you try to remember where you parked. Slick sheets of rain pour down around you. 

Only by holding your purse over your head do you manage to keep yourself from being completely soaked as you make a careful run for the car. After you slide into the driver's seat and close the door behind you, you dry your face with your jacket sleeve and start up the car. 

Or you try to, at least. 

The engine gives a pitiful growl and then dies, leaving you with only the rain falling on the roof of the car as a response. 

You should probably call a cab.

x

The bell above the gift shop door jingles above you as you enter, once again safe inside of the Shack. You toss your wet purse and jacket onto the counter as you pass by, ducking down behind the register to search for the phone book. 

"Ah hah!" You smile, managing to wrench the book out from under a heavy box, leaving behind half of the pages in the process. Standing, you toss the book down onto the counter and hope that the number you need is somewhere between Q and Y. 

After a minute, you hear your name above you and look up. Mr. Pines is standing on the other side of the counter with a smile, his suit jacket slung over one arm. The top buttons of his shirt are undone, revealing a gold medallion and a good amount of gray chest hair...you mean, it's not good. Not that it's bad.

“Huh?”  
“I said, d'you need a ride home?”

Another crack of thunder sounds in the distance. How can you refuse?

You don't know whose car is older, his or yours. The car and the music playing makes you feel like you're cruising through the 1960's at fifteen miles per hour. You have a feeling he doesn't usually drive this slow.

"Is it okay if I leave my car here overnight?" You ask, bringing your seatbelt across your chest.  
"What, you think someone's gonna try and steal that thing?"  
"Hey- that car's a classic, okay? They don't make cars like that anymore."  
"There's a reason for that, kid." He chuckles, and you can't help but join in.

x

The forest is just behind you when you feel his fingers brush against your knee. You turn your head just in time to see his hand grab at the gear shift. 

“Sorry,” he mutters quickly, and without thinking you reply, “It's okay.” The lights of the town up ahead are dim as they come through the windshield, and you can just barely make out the red on his face. You don't mention it, instead turning back to stare out your window with a small smile. He's a funny old man.

Your mind wanders as he pulls into town, and you're trying to figure out how you're going to get to work tomorrow. If you woke up early enough your roommate could drive you, maybe. Or you could walk, weather permitting...

“Shit-” you feel his forearm land hard against your chest as the car comes to a screeching halt. Both his arm and the seatbelt keep your head from knocking against the windshield as you jerk forward. A pair of bright red brake lights show in front of the car. You fall back into your seat as the car settles, the lights pulling away slowly. His arm is still outstretched, hand gripping your right shoulder protectively. Now it's your turn to blush, and after a moment you clear your throat to get his attention.

“You alright, kid? Sorry about that.”  
“Yeah...thanks,” you laugh quietly, raising a hand to your face. You can't help but smile. 

Out of the corner of your eye you can see that he's smiling too, but when you turn he's already back to driving. His fingers tap against the wheel along with the song playing. After a minute you can see him look back at you, raising an eyebrow. 

“What? I got somethin' on my face?”  
“Huh? Oh, sorry.”

After a while of you directing him through the streets of downtown, he finally pulls to a stop in front of your house. You're about to step out when he clears his throat beside you and asks, “Hey kid, ya need a ride to work tomorrow?”  
“Oh...yeah, I do...Thanks, I'd appreciate it.”  
“Pick you up at around seven?”  
“Sure thing. Thanks Mr. Pines,” you say, turning back to give him a smile.  
“Hey, no problem. And call me Stan.”

Standing on your front steps and out of the rain, you give Stan a wave. Once you're inside, he pulls off and disappears around the corner.

x

The next morning brings gray skies, but the rain has calmed to a drizzle and the wind is now a light breeze, however freezing cold. 

He's there at 6:45, and you've just finished packing your lunch for that day when you catch the sight of his car idling in front of your house. You rush to get your jacket on and lock the door behind you, wondering how long he'd been there as you make your way to the car – the passenger's side door opens as you reach for the handle. 

“Thanks,” you sigh as you slide into the seat, already sweating from the heat which is apparently cranked all the way up, what is it, 100 degrees in here? 

“Mornin',” he says as he pulls off, sliding a pink box which had been resting on the dash your way. 

“Donut? Just got 'em.”  
“Oh, thank you,” you smile, reaching in. “What's on the agenda for today, boss?” You ask through a mouth full of glazed donut.  
“Same thing as every day, kid. Same thing as every day.” 

x

He was right. 

Apart from an incident with a clothes rack and a clearly inebriated customer, things pretty much went the same way they did every day. People came, paid, left, some more people came, and you were bored. Soos was off that day, out of town, so you opened and closed the shop that day, which you didn't particularly mind. Stan wasn't exactly bad company.

You busied yourself with rearranging the counter display after the last big group left, one of few on a rainy day like this. Humming to yourself, you didn't notice you were being watched until you heard your name called.

You look up over the counter and see him there, watching you, waiting, much the same way he does at the end of every day. "Gimme a sec," you say as you finish moving a few boxes beneath the counter. You stand, opening up the register. Gathering up the bills inside, you pass them along in a neat stack, which he takes eagerly. He thumbs through the bills once with a contented sigh, and you can't help but smile. It's not that he doesn't trust you - he likes to touch the money, you think. You don't think he even bothers to count it, he just wants to see it. With a smile he stuffs it into his jacket, patting his breast pocket.

“Another day,” he says, taking off his fez and giving his head a good scratch.  
“Another dollar,” you finish, sliding the drawer shut. 

x  
There are a few hours until the Shack officially closes, but by now you can tell there won't be anyone else that day, so you close the door to the gift shop and take up your broom. But there is only so much floor to sweep, and so many shelves to dust, and an hour before closing time you have nothing to do. You entertain the thought of asking if you can go home early, but it quickly passes out of your mind. You don't really have anything to do at home, anyway.

You find him where he always was at this time of the day, sitting on the recliner in front of the tv. You've only ever stepped foot into the house part of the Shack a few times, but you knew he liked to watch his shows at the end of a long day. He was still in his suit, not having yet fully committed to the end of this work day, although you did notice he'd taken off his girdle, hand resting on his paunch with a car of soda in his fist. 

“Hey, Mr.P-, uh, Stan, can I use the bathroom?”  
“Huh?” He turned his head to look at you, managing to tear his eyes off of the tv at least for a second. “Oh, yeah. You don't have to ask, y'know, you can just go. This ain't prison.” He smiled, pointing to the hallway to his left.  
You nodded, thanking him as you passed, and headed down the dimly lit hall. 

After five minutes of searching, you regret not asking him where it is. The house was bigger than it looked, and evidently decorated by several different people at the same time, judging by the wallpaper. You had found what appeared to be an office, and the entrance to the large room wherein a customer's birthday had been recently celebrated. There was still a large pink banner taped to the wall:

 ~~IT'S A GIRL!~~  
Happy Birthday ~~Sarah~~ TOBY

Right, you'd been meaning to take that down.

x

You find a coat/firework closet which you hope you can remember to ask Stan about later, before finding an open door leading into a dark room. When you push the door open the light from the hallway pours in, illuminating the end of a small, sparsely covered bed. Stan's bedroom. You stay there in the doorway, just looking, eyes roaming over what you can see in the light. It's not really snooping if the door was already open, you explain to yourself. 

It doesn't really surprise you that he has a bedroom here, it is his house, anyway. You'd thought it would look different, is all. Not that you spent time thinking about what his bedroom looked like.

The creak of the floorboards brings you back to reality.

You can feel him behind you, not touching you, but close enough that you know he's there. Your heart flutters in the silence and he clears his throat. 

“D'ya want the tour?”

The flush of heat starting at the back of your neck moves to your face as your mind races, trying to figure out if what you just heard was really what you just heard. You turn slightly, catching his eye, and the grin on his face. 

“How much?” Oh, that was corny.  
“Employees get it for free, you know that.” So was that.

You laugh, nervously, incredulously, and turn to fully face him. He watches you move, eyes moving over your body and you suspect this isn't the first time he's looked at you like that. 

Taking a step forward, you close the space between the two of you quickly, fidgety hands resting on his chest, taking two handfuls of his lapel, eyes staring straight ahead at his nose. You always thought you were the same height..

He runs a hand up your side, lifts your shirt, calloused fingers slowly trailing over your skin. Your breath catches in your throat as his palm comes to rest on your lower back, and you never realized just how big his hands are until now, until he's sliding one down into your pants. What a way to find out. He guides you forward and your arms move up, over his shoulders, and you tilt your head so you can feel his breath fall against the side of your neck. His five o' clock shadow scratches against your neck as he lays a kiss on your throat, and a laugh bubbles up from your throat at the feeling. 

“What? Did I do it wrong?” He laughs, planting another on your collarbone, using a hand to tug at the collar of your shirt and moving it to the side to kiss your shoulder. His other hand has taken residence on your ass cheek, and you find yourself shuffling back into the room with Stan's lead. The light clicks on above you and casts a dim glow over the room. 

“No, it's just, I can't believe...I never thought..” You sigh, pulling back to look at his face. He's flushed, and the hands you've been running through his hair have left him looking like he just got out of bed. Ironic, since you're about to get him into it. 

He smiles, lopsided, and you can't help but smile back at him before leaning forward to kiss him, hands sliding down his chest, pushing off his jacket, and you leave it on the floor behind him as you both make your way over to the bed. The springs creak under the weight of you both and you separate for a moment, staring up at the man above you as he managed to get your pants halfway down your legs, and you help him along by kicking them off onto the floor. 

He crawls over you and you both manage to make it to the head of the bed before he stops, on all fours above you, a hand sliding up beneath your shirt and to your chest. You gasp quietly as he rubs the stiff nub there with his thumb, the rough skin followed shortly by the the warmth of his mouth. You let your fingers run through his hair as he spends a moment there, then moving to the other, making sure to let his tongue run over it until he draws another moan from you. He kisses down your stomach, down to your bellybutton, and to the edge of your underwear. 

You lift your hips and help him pull them down and off of you, and they land somewhere near the doorway. You catch his eyes one last time before he lowers his head, leaving a kiss on one lip and then the other – and you thought his stubble felt funny on your neck. As his tongue delves deep between them and into you you take in a sharp breath, thighs opening on either side of his head, fingers curling in his hair. 

You could tell that he had previous experience, and the amount of time he spent with his head between your legs made it obvious that this was something he enjoyed. Not that you mind at all. 

You groan as his tongue runs up to your clit and stays there, swirling around the sensitive nub, mouth closing around it for several moments which he spends sucking and kissing it. Letting out a soft whine as he presses a finger inside of you, your head pushes back into the pillow there, mouth open as your breath quickens. He fits two fingers inside of you and begins sliding them in and out rhythmically, and the feeling along with the sounds the both of you are making are driving you to the edge. 

After a few minutes you know you can't last any longer and you let him know, your tense body falling back to the bed as he pulls off of you, raising his head with a grin. He sits up and crawls closer, hovering over you, before sliding an arm beneath your back. The next moment he's on his back beneath you and you're sitting in his lap, staring down at the man in surprise. You have to give it to him, it was a good move. 

You can feel his bulge pressing up against you, fitting snugly between your thighs, and you rock yourself against it, managing to draw a groan out of the old man. Figuring it might just rip through his pants any minute now, you make quick work of his zipper and find the white heart-stamped boxers beneath, reaching inside the front opening to find his cock. He lets out a gasp, your name, as you bring it out into the open, holding it firmly in your fingers. You can feel the heat of it, how hard it is, and you can't help but give it a slow stroke, watching his face. He stares back through half-closed eyes, licking his smiling lips. 

Lifting yourself up, you align your hips and start to lower yourself down onto him, letting out a breath as you can feel him slipping inside of you, stretching you, although not painfully. You get almost to the point of sitting on his lap before you pull back up, drawing a low grumble from deep in his chest. You lower yourself back onto him and rise again in the same place, building a rhythm, hands grabbing at his shirt to steady yourself. He hisses, fuck, you can just hear him, as he grabs your hips and follows your movements, and you can feel his hips rise up against yours, pressing up into you desperately, fingers grasping at your skin. 

You go slow for a few moments but know you're already too close to keep it up, and end up sitting back down in his lap, flush against him, rocking your hips forward steadily. All at once your orgasm rushes over you and you end up bucking in his lap, just barely aware of his nails digging into the flesh of your hips, his long, low moan which sounds like your name, if you really listen. You can feel his cock twitching inside of you, your own body pulsing around him, drawing it out of him, keeping him there. 

Your arms shaking, you lower your lead, hair falling in your face, mouth still open, feeling beads of sweat on your face, your body, and on his. You're still trying to catch your breath when you lift yourself off of him, and he keeps an arm around you as you lay down beside him, an arm flung over his chest, staring up at the side of his face. Turning to look at you he smiles, pressing a kiss onto your forehead. 

_Now I really need to use the bathroom, _you think, before shortly falling asleep.__


End file.
